Sick. In bed. Again. Life is such a joy right now.
(..actually everything else is going pretty damn well, even the 9 week wait to move house.. so i have to find something to moan about…)
It’s really got to the point that i have to do something about this. As i’ve been so sick i’ve had to use every bit of flexi and holiday not to get fired and godammit i need a holiday. This cant go on anymore.
Yes, i know I haven’t updated the IBS blog since i started it (i’ve done this with the gym, running and well, lots of other things too) but its because i’ve kinda been sticking my head in the sand about it all.
I know you must be wondering, who the hell does this with an illness? especially one that keeps me in bed 2 days out of every fortnight, but when the solution is to go gluten/wheat/lactose free and clear out this whole system once and for all then its easy not to bother.
I am going to miss: cake, biscuits, fresh bread, take aways, ready meals, packaged soup… do you realise gluten is in everything? I cant go out for dinner, or grab a quick snack, everything has to be prepared in advance and taken with me. Restaurants have to be advised, checked, chosen specifically. I might as well go vegan, the amount of hassle this is going to be.
I don’t do hassle very well.
Atall.
But then im hoping that all this cleaning up might also help get rid of the squidgy tummy thats been disturbing me lately (yes its true, there is no controlling it after 30) and also help me give up the cigs too and get me back out for that run.
I’m going to be the most boring person on the planet.
And that my friends is what you call the end of my life.
I need advice, support and whatever else you can find out there in the big old internets to help and quickly. Before i become a hermit bemoaning the loss of the old me.
Kxx
Cat food and ready meals in the supermarket trolley, being able to sleep diagonally in a king size bed. Reading a book in the bath, candles, cushions, fairly lights. Underwear never seen apart from in the washing machine. Tagging along, trying to be young, Topshop skinnys and Kate Moss lines which fit. Joining a gym, pounding the streets for the perfect pick up figure. Of monthly haircuts, manicures, Rodial Bum Lift, St Tropez, deep cleanser, razors and hedge trimmers. Late nights in dodgy bars, nicknames in phones, match.com, okcupid, eharmony, adultfriendfinder. The sympathy vote, the spare friend, no plus one. Chick flicks, wine, tequila, eyeliner, eyeshadow, the next biggest mascara launch. 4 inch heals.
or…
A house with 3 bedrooms, a dining table and school work and le cruset pots and pans, 2 cars on the drive (one being a mondeo), of dvd rental services being your top page visits on Google chrome. Argos, John Lewis, wedding lists, sensible shoes, Juicy Couture and designer nappy bags. Paying for Sky Sports, drinking beer at home, family bbq’s, beach holidays, charter flights. An office for him and a craft room for me. Endless Sunday’s squeezing the last out of the weekend. Monday hangovers as you never want to give in. Credit cards, store cards, discount cards, points cards. His and her’s email address. His and her’s bank account. joandpete. daveandclaire. andrewandpaul.
Someone once told me, most relationships get back together because people miss routine.
Choice. There is always choice.
But no one has told me which one….
Kx
right here right now
Where am I going to? You'll get by, you always have before, where am I going to?
Packing up my emotions into boxes and storing them away in deep dark recesses is something i’ve become particularly good at over the years.
But that’s normal, we all have a lot of baggage we try our hardest not to carry over into our next relationship; even if (like me) your break ups have been relatively simple, there is always some residue left over – maybe because he once described you as a size bigger than you are (or more embarrassingly, the reverse for men). These things stay with you for a long time.
But emotional baggage isn’t restricted to well, emotions, baggage can also be physical, those physical reminders that you still carry with you – a house, a ring, a box of letters, photos, (or for me, a photo under the bed that the kitten keeps dragging out however many times I hide it) – things you know you should have shredded, thrown away, buried or left behind a long time ago.
Love can die, but be careful, a banana skin is sitting sneakily around the corner, cleverly disguised as a box of letters.
Last night as I began to clear my out my life ready for the move, I found that box of letters, photos, tickets, vip passes, diaries. Then I looked at the engagement ring I still wear and the shoes I wore to that date, and the books he introduced me to and listened to the music that makes me cry and I thought, if I had none of this surrounding me, where would I be now? Who would I be now?
And then I thought that carrying some of this baggage with me is my way of never having to look back; the potential banana skins prove I’m still alive. And that I decided was a good thing. You can move on too much sometimes…
Kx